


Just Let Me Love You

by DancingOnMyOwn19



Category: Let's Play (Webcomic)
Genre: Communication, F/M, Fanfiction, Heartbreak, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-02-23 02:00:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23637184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingOnMyOwn19/pseuds/DancingOnMyOwn19
Summary: Both Sam Young and Charles Jones have feelings for each other, but are having a hard time coming to terms with them. Whether at Young Technologies or on a "boss/assistant" outing, love and lust keep pulling at each of them. Each of them want to love the other, but past experiences hinder them from making the first move. However, one rainy morning, things change on both sides.
Relationships: Charles Jones/Sam Young (Let's Play)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 99





	Just Let Me Love You

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for reposting! I thought that this work would be better as a single entry, since I consider it as a oneshot. But here is the finished product! It's not long, but I hope you enjoy. This turned out to be more of a Charles-sided piece regarding his thoughts, but maybe I'll write one in Sam's POV? I'm not sure. Anyways, here ya go!

Samara Young lays down in her bed, unable to fall asleep. She turns her head to take a glance at her alarm clock: 3:46AM. A groan escapes her lips as her hands reach up to scratch her head. Her thoughts can’t stop racing and her heart beats faster and faster with every minute that passes. All she can picture is him: gazing at her, fixing her bra strap, leaning in close, his cologne that sends her into a frenzy. Her heart aches for his touch and presence, but also hurts knowing that someone like him could never want someone like her. Someone who lacks the confidence and body of a women can’t be with someone with charisma, charm, and professionalism. Tossing and turning, she eventually falls asleep, imagining the beautiful Welsh man lying next to her, body to body, flesh to flesh.

Charles Jones lays down in his bed, unable to fall asleep. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking of her, after all, he is her boss. After everything he has been through, he doesn’t want to fall in love. He doesn’t want that connection with someone. However, he feels like his own grasp on his morals is slipping. Her dark orbs, her silky chestnut brown hair, her curvy “credentials.” Everything is like a dream to him, and he can’t help but long for her attention, even if he doesn’t deserve it. Someone as devilish as him can’t possess an angel like herself: he would corrupt her to the core, and she doesn’t deserve that. He knows that he can only admire from afar, and drown himself in his silly, childish daydreams of his Bunty, his Samara.

* * *

The next morning, Sam strides into the office, internally freaking out at her outfit choice for the day. Well, more like Monica’s choice. A skin-tight, black long-sleeved turtleneck bodysuit hugs her figure and overtop lies a white, knee-length pencil skirt. Sheer black tights accompany her pale skin as well as gold 3inch heels. Her hair is tied up in a high bun with little wisps hanging down the sides of her face. She would have rather gone to work in comfortable jeans and an oversized cardigan, but knowing that both Monica and Charles would have a hissy fit if she did, she bit her tongue and sucked it up. As she walks past Lucy and all her coworkers, she feels eyes all over her. Her self-confidence was already at an all-time low, and with all eyes on her, it didn’t help. After what seemed like forever, she finally reaches her safe space. A breath of relief escapes her lips as she grasps the handle, pushing it open, only to find the last person she wanted to see standing near her desk, pacing the room quickly. Her eyes widen at the sudden surprise; a slight blush creeping up onto her cheeks. He then notices the nervous presence in the room and turns towards her, his heart immediately stopping just at first glance.

_Cachu…she looks really good._

“Good morning Charles…I hope your night went well…” Stumbling over her words, she smiles shyly and closes the door, hanging up her jacket on the coat rack to her side.

_Look at her Charlie. She’s letting her guard down right in front of you. She’s so naïve, just go in and break your pretty little doll. Go and take your angel’s innocence._

Fighting back the stubborn voice in his head, he swallows and tries his best to flip the switch to his work person. He walks towards her and smiles. “As to you, Miss Young.”

She looks up at him and frowns, beginning to shake. “What are you doing in my office…? I was planning to stop by and do my morning routine after I put away my things, I wasn’t expecting for you to be the first thing I see.” The last sentence rolls off her tongue with a little harshness to it, causing him to raise an eyebrow. Once she realizes how she came off towards him, she immediately turns crimson. “N-Not that it’s a bad thing! I didn’t mean it like that!”

_O fy Nuw…she really doesn’t know how bad she’s making you feel right now, Charlie._

Muttering some more Welsh profanities under his breath, he takes charge of the situation and steps past her, placing his hand on the handle. The warmth from her touch is still there, causing a shiver to creep down his spine. “Don’t apologize Samara. I was just returning your updated proposal. It is on your desk, I made some corrections but overall it is a solid step in the right direction. I’ll be in my office if you have any questions.” And with that, he slides out of her office, leaving her staring back at an empty room. Immediately, she hugs herself, feeling more and more self-conscious. Did she do something to upset him?

_He doesn’t seem like himself. I want to help him, but it’s not my place to. Or is it? I’m not his girlfriend: I’m only his assistant. No way would we ever get that close!_

After a lot of self-deliberation and arguing, she finally decides to figure out what is wrong with her boss, both to address her concerns and get answers out of him, whether he likes it or not.

* * *

Now sitting at his desk, Charles has his hands against his face, internally bickering with his inner devil. He doesn't know if it's lust or love he's feeling, but he is completely convinced that he does not like these "emotions." Sweat runs down his face: he can't fantasize about her. Not after what he's been through. He does not deserve her kindness: what Gwyn took from him was something he'll never forget. No matter how hard he tried to re-freeze his broken heart, the ice keeps melting away, courtesy of his innocent assistant. He's taken away from his argument with himself to a soft knock on the door.

“Charles…? May I come in, please?” She asks, her voice wavering with the slightest hint of doubt.

He takes a deep breath and adjusts his forest green tie. “Come in, Miss Young.” She then steps into his office, closing the door behind her and locking it just for safety measures: she didn’t want her overprotective father to barge in, especially for a conversation like this. With each step she takes towards him, a small clacking sounds echo’s off the newly placed hardwood floor, sending him into an internal frenzy. His heart rate is racing but surprisingly, still manages to keep his composure. She takes a seat across from him and gets comfortable by crossing her arms and legs.

She starts to feel a mixed wave of confrontation, anxiety and self-confidence engulf her, only to shake her head in protest. She takes a deep breath, sits up straight, and looks him dead in his light blue orbs: “You need to tell me what’s going on, Charles.”

“In what way do you mean, Miss Young?” He asks, shocked at the seriousness in her voice. He hadn’t seen her act like this since he “threatened” to “fire” Lucy.

“You’ve been acting really strange lately. We were on a first name basis, and now its strictly professional. I barely see you around the office, and you’ve been late twice this week. As your friend, Charles, I want to make sure you’re okay.” She replies, concern spilling out of each word.

_As your friend._

Those three words are the only thing he can hear. He never really thought about their friendship in that way. He obviously knew they agreed to confide in each other outside of work, but the term “friend” itself was not in his dictionary, not since he was back in Wales, that is. For a minute, he cannot form words. He grimaces and runs a hand through his hair. “I assure you, I am fine. Just stressed about work, that is all.”

She then stands up and leans over the desk, getting closer to him. “Charles, you always tell me that I’m a terrible liar, but that doesn’t mean I’m oblivious to when others are fabricating the truth.” Noticing that she is invading his personal space, she blushes and stands back up and tucks back a wisp behind her ear. “J-Just please, be honest with me.” He can tell her heart is beating just as fast as his. Her little actions alone are sending him into overdrive. But her poise and demeanor are really what’s killing him. He knows she’s right. He wants to convince her, _assure_ her that he is telling the truth, but for some reason he wants to let his guard down around her, no matter how uncomfortable he feels. The tables have turned: now she is the one keeping him captive in her un-escapable maze. He stands up, walks over to her and embraces her tightly, feeling a slight jump in response. “C-Charles…what are—"

“You’re right, Samara. I am indeed not myself. The reason why I really shouldn’t say. All I know is that I’m going bloody crazy…and I cannot bring myself to climb out of the ditch I’ve dug myself into. There’s so much you don’t know about me, and as your friend, I—"

She pulls away from him and places her petite finger onto his lips. Her eyes waver with uncertainty, nervousness, and…concern? Her cheeks are still tinted red, as this position they’re currently in will definitely put the wrong thoughts in the heads to those who came across them. “You can tell me Charles, I am nowhere near perfect: you know that. I…I really care about you. If you’re hurting, I can help you. You’ve already done so much for me: let me repay the favor.”

Charles for once in his life, feels a new kind of warmth radiating in his chest and throughout his body. Not one that he felt with Gwyn, not one that he felt with Rosewood and Eva Lawson. This girl, this girl has changed him. And while he felt some satisfaction, he was terrified.

_Fuck…Ni allaf ddal yn ôl anymore._

He reaches out to cup her face, and slowly leans in, placing his lips gently onto hers. He can feel her expression widen, but then soften as she melts into the kiss. This selfless woman had broken him and saw past his façade, and still saw something good in him. He knew he wanted her, just not in the way he feels now. His inner devil shouts and screams at him to just take her then and there, but he ignores that voice and pours out his emotions into her, all through one simple display of affection. Sex wasn’t the only thing he desired from her anymore, he wanted her: all of her. She pulls away, gasping for air. Realizing her inhaler is still with her belongings, he curses and runs to her office, grabs the life-saving device and brings it to her, placing it into her hands.

As the medication takes effect, she sits down in the chair once again and looks up at him, face bright red. “Charles…”

He leans down next to her and overlaps his hand with hers. “Samara, I am so, so sorry. I should not have let myself get carried away like that.”

She shakes her head in response, chuckling a little. “Don’t apologize…I’ve been dreaming for a while about that…” She looks up at him only to be met with a questionable smirk, and realizes that once again, she said her thoughts out loud. She pulls her hand away from his and covers her mouth.

Laughing, he wipes a tear from his eye. “You’ve become quite upfront, Bunty. I’m proud of you.” He then remembers all his negatives, which in turn replaces his signature, genuine smile with a self-loathing frown. “Still, that doesn’t excuse my actions. I’m not good for you, Samara. As I stated before, there is so much you don’t know about me and my past. I can’t be the villain in your story as your father and brother say I am. I cannot hurt you. You don’t deserve to go through pain and heartbreak that I’ll give you.”

His words sting her heart, as she can feel the passion, truth, and sadness behind them. She turns her body towards him and grabs his hands, enclosing them with her own once again. “I may not be experienced as much as you are when it comes to most, or all, things in the real world. But I do know my feelings for you, and I think they are reciprocated. Life comes with pain and heartache, but I want to experience it with you. We’re all broken in some way, and I want to help you. Please Charles,”

_Just let me love you._

When he thought that his heart was fully melted, he was gravely mistaken. Never once during his time at Young Technologies did he think that he would fall for another woman, let alone the mousey, introverted heir to the throne. Instead of only seeing jealousy towards her, he now sees before him a beautiful, elegant, humble woman that wants him for him. Not just for sex or mutual “transactions,” but for him, a broken soul looking to find his way home. He smiles, standing up and holding out his hand towards her. “Bunty, you are one of a kind.”

Shyly, she accepts his invitation, taking his hand and standing up from the chair. He pulls her towards him, grabbing her waist and puts his forehead against hers. While he was still adjusting to these newfound feelings deep within his beating heart, he knew that she meant something to him: something that could not be replaced.


End file.
